


Chance Encounter

by RedHybernaculum



Category: Dark Matter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHybernaculum/pseuds/RedHybernaculum
Summary: Three is on the run inside a space station, cutoff from the rest of the crew. He bangs on a door and a mysterious woman takes a chance.Little angsty, but hey, there's sex!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place somewhere in Season Two before the finale.

Brief Encounter (A Dark Matter fiction)  
NC-17  
Three/OC

I made dinner in the small kitchen, watching the pot of thin stew come to a boil. There was a rapping on the door. I hesitate to open it, but press the keypad. With a grunting, slow whoosh of aging machinery the metal mechanisms come to life. A stranger, tall and panting hurtled through the opening, gun in hand, slamming his fist on the keypad to close it behind him. Putting his back to the frame he looks at me and places a single finger to his lips, tilting the gun clutched close to his chest, a silent reminder that he means business.

There is a commotion in the corridor. I can hear men rushing about, heavy boots on the grates, yelling. I keep my eyes on the man, fear in my chest. I do not know if it is fear for my life, but perhaps it is more fear in general that chaos seems to foster. The trampings fade off and we are left in the dim of my flat.

He mutters a word at me and turns for the door. With boldness I let myself stay his arm. The fine dark hairs, so soft against his warm skin, stand on edge beneath my fingers.

"Don't." I whisper.

Confusion crosses his hardened face and I know that he does not understand my mother tongue. Caught up in the moment, the common word escapes me. I search, but there is no recollection.

With gentle, imploring movements I pull him inside further, guiding him to the small table in the kitchen, slipping the chair back for him to sit. He says something further, motioning for the door, but I shake my head.

"No." It is the only other stupid word that I can think of in the common tongue.

He looks at me, trying to comprehend, his eyes like the skies of home, a cheerful blue despite his skeptical face. Though the light casts more shadows than illumination his features materialize, a kindness perhaps, an underlying warmth in them. The meager fuzz about his jaw tempts, amplifying his rugged appeal. I touch his cheek, softly, and the word comes to me.

"Safe," I speak it unsteady, but I'm almost certain this is correct, "No safe," lifting my eyes to the door and back.

"Etezno'tsafeowet'thair?" he questions.

I can't make out the meaning, but only repeat, "No safe."

Imploring him to seat himself I turn to the boiling pot, stirring it, not really much sense in the action as it's contents are little more than spices in water. It will have to suit. I ladle a cup and slip a spoon inside before setting it on the table. It isn't much, perhaps not even approaching his normal intake. I ladle another cup for myself. It does not match.

Opposite I rest myself, setting the hot stew carefully down, trying not to wobble the uneven table. I watch him, turning the ceramic in my hands. It had been a long while since I'd had a visitor that was not of my kin. His hair lies in a graceful mess atop his head, light brown.

...

Her place is dim, dingy. The kind of quarters hollowed out of the space station and cobbled together for one occupant. The kind that whole families are shoehorned into to accommodate refugees in transit from one bad world to another. I entered to escape the Galactic Authorities, luck was on my side even on a day like today when everything seemed to be going sideways. Would the crew of the Raza wait for me? Maybe.

I tried to get back out there, double back and give the pigs the slip, but she stopped me, her hand on my forearm. She must've known something I didn't. Made me wonder if I was the first unfortunate to grace her doorstep. She didn't seem to know much in the way of English, but she knew enough, where it counted.

She pulled me into her kitchen and got me a seat and a cup of something. Wasn't much, but it was probably all she had, looking around at all the hand-me-down junk that passed for furnishings in that dark place. Her eyes were vacant, but imploring as she passed me the cup. Didn't need the spoon. Set it aside and drank the broth. It was good if not bare.

Tried not to look up at her, but knew she was watching. It wasn't fear, I think, but curiosity. Wondered, mostly about why she would let herself take in a stranger.

A pounding on the metal outside. It had to be the cops. Shit. She stood up and threw a blanket over me, sliding my gun closer to me. Guess she wanted it hidden. With a calm that covered her head to toe she went for the door. I didn't turn around, just sat with the threadbare piece over my head like one of them monk robes, sipping my soup.

They talked for minute, trying at first in English, then in whatever the hell she spoke. Seemed to do the trick. They didn't come in, not further than a step beyond the threshold. When I heard the door close I let myself relax a little, turning in my chair just enough. All the little piggies went on their way and she strode back to her seat.

She drank quietly, keeping a sharp eye out. When we finished she stood and took my cup. Seconds were probably a luxury here. I got up, tried to tell her 'Thank you'. Of course, she didn't understand the words, but I kind of hoped that she got the gist of it.

It ain't often a stranger 'll take in a crook, let alone cover his ass. Standing in front of her she stroked my cheek with the backs of her fingers. Left the gun on the table and carried her to bed. In that ugly light I took her, unbuttoning her shirt, slipping my hand over her breast as I kissed her neck.

...

His tongue slid over her skin at her nape, moist heat of his breath tickling over her receptive flesh. She wanted him, needed him in that moment, parting her thighs for him as he hiked up her skirt. His hard, wanton cock rubbed against her bared sex, begging to be free of his trousers. He ground her desperately as he found her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth, exploring hungrily. Her warm palm slid over his aching bulge, caressing, entreating him to have her. He stayed his lips and pulled upright, unbuttoning, unzipping, unleashing.

He entered her in a fluid motion, sinking deep, letting the hot walls of her slicked cunt accommodate before he hitched her leg up, letting the other hand rest at the small of her back.

A rhythmic momentum built as he watched her keenly, the ripples of his thrusts accentuated in her breasts. She moaned, from deep within, letting it roll up and spill over her lips. Three took it as a sign to pick up pace.

Before five minutes could be ticked off she was shuddering, her eyes disappearing into her skull as he drove home inside her. Oh, god did she feel good. It made him want to cum inside her, but some strange, rational part of his brain clicked into gear and made him pull out of her racked body. Just in time, too, as he pumped and spurted seed across her belly. No mistakes.

In the end he kissed her goodbye as she lie sprawled across the mattress, parting ways on better terms than they had started.


End file.
